‘Thanks. Was Fernanda okay when you left? You look a bit flustered.’
‘She is now. She was in a bit of a state when I arrived. She’d mislaid some trinket of her sister’s.’
‘I’m always mislaying things.’ Amy laughed.
‘Nonna never normally loses anything, she’s so tidy and careful.’ Leo frowned. Someone patted him on the shoulder and his smile returned. ‘Ciao!’
‘Ciao, Leo.’ A boy with a leather jacket over his arm, despite the warm evening, gave him a half salute and looked Amy up and down. He said something in Italian with a cheeky grin and wandered off; she didn’t like to ask what it was. Leo made a disapproving noise.
‘Sorry about that guy. He used to date my sister, they got together one school holiday. I haven’t seen him for an age.’
‘I can’t believe it’s so busy here. I hadn’t realised this band was so popular.’ The crowd around the stage was now at least ten people deep and it was impossible to see what snacks the formidable army of local ladies were serving up, there were so many people thronging around the trestle tables.
‘It doesn’t matter much who the band are. People here just like a night out, whether it’s rock, some guy in a wig singing ballads or our local brass band.’ Leo smiled. ‘It looks like the whole village is here.’
‘Except for Stella and your dad.’
‘Stella is a nice lady but I’d rather not think about those two being alone together in my house whilst I’m out.’ He pulled a face.
Amy laughed. ‘Do you think we’ll be able to get a beer?’
‘It might be easier now than later.’ He took her hand; they walked towards the temporary bar erected in the far corner. Their progress was slow, Leo stopping every few paces to chat to friends and neighbours. But she didn’t mind when she clocked the pride on his face as he introduced her.
‘How do you know so many people? Didn’t you go to school in Alassio?’
‘I spent a lot of time at Nonna’s in the holidays. Kids here tend to play outside so it’s easier to get to know each other.’
‘I thought Fernanda kept you stuck inside chained to your schoolbooks,’ she teased.
‘I’m glad she did, all those hours studying English vocabulary are coming in very useful.’
‘I should thank her. Maybe I should start learning Italian.’
‘Why is that?’ He gave her that look again, the one that turned the edges of her world all fuzzy.
‘Maybe I’ll come back.’ She felt herself blush.
He bit his lip, looking as if he was going to say something, but a guy with a nose ring and arms tattooed with italic script said something that made him swing around.
‘This is Amy,’ Leo said. ‘Amy, this is Ettore, Black Rat’s bass guitarist. That means he stands at the back and looks moody.’
Ettore frowned, obviously not quite understanding what Leo was saying. ‘Like somecuculli? I have plenty.’ He handed Leo a paper cone of fried snacks. Amy could smell sage and rosemary.
‘They’re like chickpea fritters,’ Leo said to her, popping one in his mouth.
‘Sure, great, I’d love some,’ Amy said.
Ettore gave her another cone, high-fived Leo and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ciao ragazzi!’
Ettore didn’t take long to weave his way through the crowd. He was up on the stage two minutes later, a black and white electric guitar slung round his neck. A big man with a black T-shirt shouteduno, due, tre,into a microphone. Another man leapt onto the stage, his hair slicked back, a white shirt open to the navel. He fired out a string of rapid Italian. The audience responded with clapping and a few cheers. The drummer dropped his head, the singer grabbed the mic with both hands, twisting his body as he launched straight into a cover version of ‘I Fought the Law’. The lead guitarist whirled his arm in a circle, strutting across the stage like he was playing at Wembley. Amy finished the last of hercuculli, her fingers greasy with oil and salt. She found a tissue and gave them an inadequate wipe.
The band played one rocking track after another. Even the songs they had written themselves got the villagers dancing. Teenagers leapt around, some playing air guitar, young mums swayed behind their pushchairs, couples bopped.
The lead singer said something Amy couldn’t catch. A murmur of appreciation rose from the crowd.
‘They’re going to play some old rock and roll,’ Leo said.
Amy recognised the first bars of ‘Jailhouse Rock’ straight away. Next to her, an elderly lady in a crocheted cardigan took dainty steps in her high-heeled shoes, singing along in a surprisingly gusty voice. The band switched to a Chubby Checker number. Mario from the pizzeria started doing the twist, holding hands with someone who looked like his father. The older chap got right down to the floor, needing his son to yank him back up again. Leo swung Amy around until she was quite dizzy.
